Hades and the Greatest Show Unearthed
by Baby-Cellophane
Summary: Each Disney story exists in its own universe, but they are all linked by the Underworld. Hades and several other deceased villains decide to wreak vengeance on those who have wronged them, and the consequences could be dire for everyone involved.
1. Prologue, Welcome to the Lower Berth

**PROLOGUE, "WELCOME TO THE LOWER BERTH"**

**THE UNDERWORLD, WHERE TIME DOES NOT EXIST**

He did not know who had pulled him from the river Styx. He was only grateful to be out of there. The river was filled with the souls of the dead, each of them crying out and tugging at him, begging him to bring them back to life. They pleaded pitifully, weeping and wailing. The noise was deafening. Hades was grateful to whoever had pulled him out, though he had never really bothered to find out who had done it.

He was more concerned with the rotten little bastard who had pushed him in the first place. Hercules. Most of Hades's thoughts – both waking and asleep – were filled with bloody vengeance. His anger did not end with Hercules, however. It extended outward in a great spiral, touching everyone and everything who had ever come to the man's aid.

Hades had woken on the banks of the river gasping and wet, but thrilled to finally be out of there. He did not know how long he had been down in the river; time moved differently beneath its waters. At the bottom of the river – where he had ultimately been dragged – time almost stopped existing.

Though the river was filled with souls, not every soul who entered the Underworld was damned to spend eternity there. In fact, the river was considered one of the better places to spend eternity. Those trapped in the river were in constant motion; they felt as though they were going somewhere. Of course, Hades had not experienced that sensation when he'd been pushed into the river. He knew that the river went nowhere, that it just looped endlessly through the vastness of the Underworld without reaching an actual destination. Plus, he had become trapped in the mud at the bottom while the souls desperate and depraved enough to wish to return to life pulled and clawed at him.

Wandering the banks of the river was worse than being trapped in its current, though only marginally. Those who wandered the river's banks had nowhere to go. They could only walk back and forth, desperately searching for a way out. Most of them gave up and leapt into the river, where they were granted the reprieve of at least thinking that they were going somewhere. Others sat by the bank and let madness take hold of them.

Hades knew that the people he'd found on the riverbank when he'd finally regained consciousness were clearly mad. This, however, did not bother him much. He was fairly certain (when he bothered to think of something besides torturing Hercules) that he himself was mad.

Still, the company was enjoyable. The others on the riverbank had also been wronged. They carried madness in their heads and vengeance in their hearts, and it was refreshing to hear them talk about what they had in mind for those who had dared cross them. They came from other worlds as well, and Hades found their tales fascinating. He could sit and listen for hours as they described their previous lives. They were, in turn, equally fascinated by his life, and he was flattered to a certain extent.

He could not remember his death, and while this bothered him greatly, his death had granted him his freedom. His powers were greatly diminished; they were only a fraction of what they had once been, and he had no access to the materials necessary for potions or brews. Nonetheless, he had freedom. The fact that he was dead didn't matter at all. He had freedom.

He had explored the Underworld as thoroughly as he could when he'd first arrived. To his knowledge, there was no exit. At first, this had been a great annoyance. Being unable to leave any area – no matter how spacious – was the equivalent to being in a prison. The Underworld was vast and stretched on for eternity. It was still a prison, and Jafar was determined to escape.

He would escape. He would re-gain his life, and he would wreak havoc and vengeance on the street rat. Aladdin had stolen the throne that Jafar had so rightfully deserved, and he would pay dearly for that.

The Underworld appeared to be populated with like-minded individuals; men and women who had been wronged and desired vengeance. While Jafar found their stories entertaining, he was more focused on his own goal. From what he had gathered, there were multiple worlds, not one as he had previously believed. The worlds floated separately and never intertwined, except when their residents died.

Despite the different worlds (he was tempted to say "different universes," but the idea that so many vast places could be completely unknown to him was actually a frightening one), there was only one world reserved for the dead. The dead gathered in the Underworld, where they were ruled over by a cranky demon who called himself a god and routinely threw tantrums that resulted in burning everything.

Jafar did not dislike Hades. He simply refused to be ruled by anyone or anything. Now that he had his freedom, he would find a way to escape the Underworld and return to his rightful place as Supreme Ruler of Agrabah.

She had had a great deal of trouble remembering who exactly she was. She had been so many things in her life; a lady at court, a pauper, a witch, a great beauty, a queen, and now she was dead. She was still unsure of it sometimes. She didn't like being so unsure of herself. She never told anyone of her own insecurities, as though denying them could erase them from her head. She knew that she was dead. In her more lucid moments, she knew who exactly she was and who was responsible for her death.

She did not know how she had died; no one did. It was one of the things that they discussed frequently, and it seemed to bother just about everyone. Not knowing how she had died didn't bother her much. She suspected that it had something to do with the chronic pains in her stomach. The pain always came suddenly and without much warning; it was a thick, stabbing sensation.

The others felt similar pain. Jafar occasionally complained of feeling as though he was on fire. One time it was so severe that he'd collapsed, clawing at his skin and screaming in pain. Claude suffered from a perpetual back ache, and had one time confided in her that he had nightmares about a menacing stone monster with red eyes. There were others who suffered

She was the only one who liked the river. She was the only one able to actually swim in it. She had a body that was half-human, half-octopus, and she had spent her entire life under the ocean, where the current was colder and stronger. The river was nothing when compared to the ocean. She could swim in the river and even climb out and sit on its banks. At first she'd been bothered by the souls; they had grabbed at her, screaming at her to save them, but she had brushed them off, and now they no longer reached out to her. Besides, most of them moved too fast to get a good grip on her. They did not know how to handle the current and were often swept away before they could even register her presence. She swam against the current, occasionally pausing to climb out of the river and converse with the others when she grew tired or bored.

Today, she sat with the others, her tentacles lazily plucking at the withered gray grass on the riverbank. She was having one of her more lucid days, and though the others surely noticed, they did not comment out of politeness. They listened to her as she talked, and she told them about the bratty little princess whose idiocy had brought about the end of her life.

He had realized that he was dead very quickly, but it had taken him much longer to figure out where exactly he was. He was not in Heaven; it was much too dark, and he was surrounded by sinners, heathens, and monstrosities. He was not in Hell, though. There were no devils and no flames, and he was not really suffering. He was bored and frustrated, but he was not being tortured by hellish imps and demons. No one was suffering, at least, not physically.

He concluded that he was in Purgatory, though no one else called it that. Everyone simply referred to the place as "the Underworld," which made it sound more hellish and unpleasant than it actually was.

Claude had always believed that death brought peace. When a man died, everyone always said that he was "at peace." Everyone was terribly wrong. There was nothing peaceful about being dead. With no outlet or physical activity, he was tormented by his own thoughts. He was haunted by memories of Esmerelda, of her wicked beauty and blazing green eyes. He longed for her, ached for her, and it maddened him that he could not even gaze upon her. Her rejection of his advances may not have bothered him so much had they not been so public. To humiliate him in front of his peers and inferiors was beyond unforgivable. His desire for her had not morphed into anything even resembling love; he hated her as much as he wanted her.

He was not the only one who had been thoroughly shamed and humiliated by someone so low and filthy. There was Jafar the sorcerer, who had been tricked by a worthless 'street rat.' There was Ursula, whose death had been caused by an uppity princess who thought that her royal blood allowed her to break a deal. Bill Sykes, who had been duped and then killed by a homeless man and a bunch of mongrel dogs. Gaston, whose desire for a frigid woman's affection had blinded him and ultimately led to his demise. Then, of course, there was Hades, whom Claude had initially mistaken for Satan upon his arrival in the Underworld. Hades was, as it turned out, a god who had been banished from the heavens by his own nephew.

There was no shortage of stimulating conversation or stories to share. There was, however, a growing restlessness.

Gaston had never thought about death before. After all, he was too young to die. He was in the prime of his life, the picture of perfect health. Death was something that came to the old and the weak, not to the young. He was supposed to be out living his life, experiencing the world, not wandering around a dull, dank place and listening to other people moan about how unfair their deaths were.

If anyone had the right to complain, it was him. He had been cut down in the prime of his life. There was still so much left for him to do, to taste, to touch, to experience. It wasn't fair.

Gaston had discovered very quickly that the Underworld was boring. There was nothing to do but sit and listen while everyone else around him griped and groaned about how unfair their deaths had been. The others made him feel stupid. They came from rich, grand places; Gaston had come from a small village, and his natural athletic prowess and hunting abilities had immediately catapulted him into the height of society. They did not do the same for him down in the Underworld.

In the Underworld, it seemed as though everyone was just content to sit around and talk. Gaston would not have minded so much if he could understand half of what they were saying. Hades, Jafar, and Claude monopolized the conversation, and they discussed weird, foreign ideas that Gaston had trouble following. Their talks rarely included him; they were more willing to include Ursula, who sometimes referred to herself as Vanessa and was clearly quite insane, than him.

The conversations were always the same, at least, they were to Gaston. Various methods of leaving the Underworld and entering new worlds were tossed around and debated over. The conversation would eventually de-evolve into an in-depth discussion of who had wronged who and how they should be punished. Various torture methods were brought up, and occasionally, Hades would point to the ground and create a nasty-looking device right out of thin air.

Gaston never really paid enough attention to figure out what exactly Hercules, Aladdin, Ariel, and Esmerelda had done to offend Hades, Jafar, Ursula, and Claude, but he would feel nothing but pity for them if Hades, Jafar, Ursula, or Claude found a way out of the Underworld.

…**END OF PROLOGUE**

**WELCOME TO THE LOWER BERTH (THE GREATEST SHOW UNEARTHED)**


	2. The Dark Carnival

**THE DARK CARNIVAL**

**IN SHINING CASTLE**

Being married to a prince was never something she had read about in her adventure books. Most tales ended with the prince taking his new bride to their home, never showing what happened next. Being married to a prince was not much of an adventure, but it was more exciting than she had previously imagined.

Adam spent most of his time traveling, and he was more than willing to bring Belle along with him. She loved it. Different countries offered new sights to see, new people to meet, and new languages to be learned. Adam brought an interpreter with him, but Belle was determined to learn as many new languages as she could.

She stared out the window and sighed. She could not have picked a worse time to come down with a cold. The sun was shining and the air was warm and sweet-smelling. Adam had been called away; he had to negotiate some sort of peace treaty, and it was not something that he could put off until her health returned. Belle did not really mind being left behind. The circumstances were beyond her control, and besides, the newfound solitude offered her some time to read.

She was thoroughly irritated that she was not allowed outside. She was feeling well enough to walk around; she wasn't bed-ridden. Still, Mrs. Potts was very firm. Belle was to remain indoors and thoroughly bundled despite the comfortable temperature. Part of her wanted to go down into her village, just to see familiar faces. She rarely visited the village; everyone treated her differently, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. The townspeople all bowed and curtsied and called her "Princess" or "Highness," but she sensed an undercurrent of uneasiness in their voices.

They blamed her for Gaston's death. They feared Adam; they gossiped and said that he was a werewolf, that he could change his shape at will, and that Belle herself was a witch. They only treated her with respect because she was married to a prince, making her a princess. She had decided to stop going into town after running into LeFou. He had not taken Gaston's death well, and it showed. He had stumbled up to her, reeking of beer, and had loudly accused her of murdering his best friend before vomiting all over her shoes. She couldn't bring herself to hate LeFou, though; if anything, she pitied him. Without Gaston, it was as if he had no real purpose in life.

At any rate, Mrs. Potts had deemed her too sick to go into town. At least Belle could sit by the window, though Mrs. Potts wouldn't let her open it. She had found the science book completely by accident. She's been searching for a book on how to speak Italian. The library was vast, and none of the books were in any sort of order. At some point – perhaps the next time Adam had to travel – she would re-organize the entire room. The science book was fascinating, though, and Belle just couldn't put it down. She had never really been drawn to science, math, or history books; she'd always had a preference for adventures.

This science book, however, was not as tedious any other one she'd ever come across. The writer had an outlandish theory that there was more than one world. These multiple worlds never touched; they floated separately in space, like balloons. Perhaps it was the theory's total lack of realism that made it so appealing. It was interesting to imagine what another world would look like.

The writer also stated that it might be possible to visit these worlds the way one might visit another country. The writer was vague about this; some of the book's chapters were peppered with anecdotes about individuals who had managed to travel to other worlds completely by accident. Many of the individuals described falling into a hole or portal and finding themselves in a new place, which the writer called unrealistic even as he used it as proof positive that other worlds existed.

Belle did find the idea of just falling into a new world completely preposterous. It made for an excellent adventure story, though.

**WHERE LIFE IS NEAT AND SMOOTH AS SWEET VERMOUTH**

Meg was lying on her side, still fast asleep despite the fact that the sun had been up for nearly an hour. He slid back into bed beside her and kissed her neck. She stirred and smiled before opening her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Time for you to wake up."

She rolled over to face him. She ran her hand through his hair and frowned. "You're wet."

"I was swimming." In spite of Hades's banishment to the Underworld and the fact that most of his powers had been stripped from him, there was always a need for a hero. Phil insisted that he stay in shape, and Hercules agreed wholeheartedly with him. While Meg slept, Hercules ran laps, swam, or lifted weights before bathing and coming in to wake her.

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "It didn't tire you out, did it?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

She kissed him, and he used his free hand to pull the sheets over them.

**ANOTHER ARABIAN NIGHT**

"Well, I think you did a wonderful job." She knew that her own praise wouldn't really cheer him up, but there was nothing else she could think to do. She removed her other earring and placed it down on the dressing table before turning to him.

Aladdin sat on the bed, holding his head in his hands dejectedly. Jasmine sighed. The meeting with the council had actually gone very smoothly. It had gone well past the allotted time, but that was to be expected of all council meetings. Aladdin had taken them on a personal tour of Agrabah's poorest streets. A risky move, but in the end, it had left a lasting impression, and several of the council members had praised Aladdin on his insight.

"A frugal sultan will lead to a wealthy nation," one of them had said. He nodded to her, "you've chosen well, Princess."

In spite of this, Aladdin still remained painfully insecure. He could not read or write and was so deeply ashamed that he didn't even want a tutor. Jasmine had had to force him to concede, arguing that she would not continue to read for him. Despite the smiling, confident face he wore in public, Aladdin was the complete opposite in private.

"Do you really think so?" he lifted his head from his hands and looked at her.

She went and sat beside him, slipping her arms around his waist. "Of course I do." She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "You really impressed the council today."

"It feels like I don't know what I'm doing."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." She wished that he would look at her; his gaze remained fixed on the floor. "You're doing a wonderful job."

He finally turned to look at her, and he smiled. The smile seemed forced, but the look of love and gratitude in his eyes was genuine enough.

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"Either you are a god or not. There's no such thing as being only partly omnipotent."

"I know that." Hades had always had a quick temper, and he'd never been good at controlling it. He knew that Jafar was just trying to egg him on. Jafar was one of those people who considered himself an expert conversationalist; he could sit and debate with Claude for hours about philosophy, religion, literature, and everything else. Hades, on the other hand, was not someone who could sit still and talk. He preferred action. Hades ran his hand through his hair in a vain attempt to mask his anger. His hair made it impossible for him to hide his emotions; it wasn't traditional hair, but a mass of blue flames that constantly shifted according to his moods. When he grew angry, it became out of control, spreading down his neck and along his shoulders and arms. He tugged at the flames, trying to get them to stop leaping so spastically. Jafar grinned smugly, obviously amusing himself at Hades's expense.

"Technically, I'm still a god," said Hades. "I'm just under house arrest after the incident on Mount Olympus."

"Surely a _god_ can't be imprisoned." Jafar put extra emphasis on the word 'god,' stretching it out sarcastically.

Hades stopped fussing with his hair, letting the flames crawl over his shoulders and down his arms. "I know that!" he shouted, "and the second I get my hands on that rotten, lousy Hercules, I'll make the little bastard pay for it!"

Unlike the others, Jafar did not step back to avoid the rush of flames. Jafar held some sort of magic that protected him. Hades took several deep breaths, surveying the newly scorched earth that surrounded him. He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm cool," he muttered to himself, "I'm cool."

"I can see that."

He ignored Jafar. "I just need a way to get out of here."

"How, exactly, does one get out of here?"

"Well, being alive helps." He wished that Jafar would just go away and let him think.

"But surely as a god – "

"I _can't_ leave." Hades could feel the flames that made up his hair begin to jump wildly. "Zeus won't let me. If I _could_ leave, I'd _do_ it, but as you can see, I'm stuck down here just like you and the rest of the deadbeats. I need to find a loophole."

"Gods take life away," said Jafar calmly, "can they not also grant life?"

Hades could feel his anger rising and knew that he was dangerously close to incinerating everything around him, but something suddenly snapped inside of his mind. He was no longer angry. Everything seemed very quiet and very still, the way they always did whenever Hades got a brilliant idea. The silence was quickly interrupted by Hades's own laughter, loud and maniacal, ricocheting off of the walls and ceiling. Jafar, Claude, and Ursula were staring at him.

He could not leave the Underworld, but they could.


	3. We Appear Without a Sound, Part I

**WE APPEAR WITHOUT A SOUND**

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"The question is how do you hurt someone who has no weaknesses?"

Claude rolled his eyes and refused to play along. It was obvious that Hades already knew the answer; he was asking the question to appear smarter than he actually was. Claude refused to believe that a person without any weakness could exist. People were naturally weak. Even Claude himself had had moments of weakness. They were moments that had ultimately led to his incarceration in the Underworld. He folded his arms across his chest stubbornly and glared at Hades.

Hades did not seem to notice one bit. He was grinning maniacally, showing off a mouth of sharp, fang-like teeth. "Everyone's got a weakness," he said smugly, "that's the beauty of it. Even Wonder-boy here has a weakness!" Hades waved his hands, conjuring up the image of a handsome, well-muscled youth.

"And what is that weakness?" Jafar's tone was flat; he was obviously as bored as Claude was. Ursula seemed to be intently studying the image, scrutinizing the young man as if she was looking for an obvious flaw.

Hades waved his hands again, and the man's image vanished in a haze of thick black smoke. It was replaced by a pretty-looking woman with long auburn hair. "Her name's Megara, but her friends call her Meg." Hades looked at them, still grinning. "If you want to get back to your worlds, you have to go up into mine and bring Meg back to me."

**WHERE LIFE IS NEAT AND SMOOTH AS SWEET VERMOUTH**

Gaston had only agreed to accompany the others because he wanted to experience life again. He didn't really care about the elaborate plan to abduct the woman who happened to love the man who had wronged Hades. The whole thing was convoluted and stupid. Exacting revenge wouldn't change anything.

Still, being granted life – no matter how temporary – was exhilarating. He'd forgotten how the sun felt on his face. It was marvelous. Hades's world was a fascinating one. Hades had transported them just outside of a large villa surrounded by green grass and wild flowers. Gaston had never really paid much attention to these things in life. In death, he had a newfound appreciation for them. If he had his way, he'd just sit in the sun for hours and stare at the horizon and the ever-changing clouds.

Claude, Jafar, and Vanessa did not seem to notice anything. They were examining the villa, circling it to find a way in. Gaston had suggested knocking on the front door, but the suggestion had immediately been dismissed. They wanted to find some way to storm the villa, to burst in and take the woman hostage as quickly as possible.

Hades had granted them life, but he'd given them a time limit. They would return to the Underworld in one hour; Gaston had the feeling that Hades would be furious if they failed to bring the woman back. Gaston glanced back over his shoulder at the portal they had climbed out of. It was a thin bluish-black hole in the ground, surrounded by tall weeds on all sides. It was extremely well-hidden.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a shrill sound, like the beginning of a scream. He turned; he had been too distracted by the sunlight and the greenery to notice that the front door to the villa had opened. Claude, Jafar, and Vanessa had noticed the door, and had pounced immediately. The woman squirmed and thrashed; Claude had apparently tackled her. She was lying on her stomach. Claude had pinned her and was covering her mouth with one hand. He held one of her arms behind her back with the other. Her free arm flailed wildly.

Jafar was at Claude's side almost instantly, and he grabbed the woman's waving arm. Claude was struggling to get to his feet when he cried out; he jerked his hand away from the woman's mouth. It was covered with something red. Claude pulled away from the woman instinctively, still staring down at his injured hand, and she managed to wriggle out of Jafar's grasp.

She scrambled back over the threshold, screaming. Gaston saw Jafar roll his eyes in irritation and swing his snake-shaped staff at the woman, knocking her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard, but, to her credit, she kept trying to crawl back into the safety of the villa. Jafar aimed the staff at her, and for a moment, Gaston thought that he meant to strike her.

The staff had two rubies set where the snake's eyes would be, and they glowed bright red. Thick, black ropes materialized around the woman, sliding around her wrists and ankles like writhing serpents. The ropes tugged the woman, dragging her from the villa. Gaston noticed that one had wormed its way across her mouth, stifling her screams. Jafar stared down at the woman for a moment before bending and lifting her, slinging her over his shoulder as though she weighted nothing.

"Thanks so much for helping," he said sarcastically.

Claude glared at him, still holding his bleeding hand. "Unlike you, I don't have witchcraft to rely on – "

"I wasn't talking to you," said Jafar. "You did admirably, though." He approached Gaston and Vanessa. Without warning, he shoved the bound woman into Gaston's arms. She squirmed and thrashed desperately, and he was so surprised that he nearly dropped her. "Surely someone as strong as you are can be of some use, Gaston."

The woman was staring at him, her eyes wild. He could hear her begging him to let her go beneath the gag. He shifted her so that he wouldn't have to stare into her terrified eyes, and he held her as gently as he could. "Sorry," he said, "it happened so fast."

He glanced at Vanessa, who was looking up at the sky, frowning. "Something isn't right," she said, her voice nervous and enigmatic. "The sky is different."

Gaston followed her gaze, but he couldn't see anything unusual. The sun, shiny and bright, was peeking out from behind fluffy white clouds. "Come on," said Jafar. He brushed past Gaston and Vanessa, heading for the portal.

"We don't have to go back yet, do we?" he asked. He stared at the portal, momentarily forgetting the squirming woman in his arms. "I mean, we have a few more minutes, don't we?"

Jafar rolled his eyes. "The sooner we bring her back, the sooner we can get to our own worlds," he said.

**THE UNDERWORLD**

Struggling didn't do much good. Screaming did even less, especially considering that a thick piece of rope was covering her mouth, muffling the sound. Neither of these things mattered; she was far too terrified to think rationally or logically. She hoped against hope that the ropes would break or that they'd simply vanish and that she could escape.

"Meg, you are just adorable when you struggle!"

Hades loomed over her, grinning, the blue flames on his head leaping spastically. He leaned down and pinched her cheek, laughing. Meg only screamed louder. His hands were freezing, so cold they nearly burned her. She hated him. She hated everything about him. Above all else, she hated the fact that she had once willingly given her soul to him. The fact that he had once owned her was painfully humiliating.

He trailed an icy finger along her cheek, then stood up and addressed her attackers. "And it only took you thirty minutes!" he said, laughing. "This is just fantastic. Really, I don't know how to thank you – "

"Yes you do!" the woman spoke, stepping forward. "You know exactly what we want, Hades."

"My dear Ursula – "

"Vanessa."

"Whatever you're calling yourself today. It isn't quite that simple. I can return each of you to your worlds, but I can only do it one at a time," said Hades.

"So bring me back!"

"No, me!"

"I was the one who captured her, the others did nothing – "

"Here's what we can do." Hades bent down and lifted Meg, sliding his icy hands under her and scooping her up into his arms. She thrashed, trying desperately to pull away from him. He held her tightly, digging his fingernails into her arms. "You all want the same thing, am I right?"

"We want to be alive again."

"Oh? And here I was thinking you all wanted to get even with the bastards who killed you…"

"We need to be alive to do that!"

"Do you?" asked Hades. He shifted, sliding one hand up her skirt and running his fingers along her thigh. Meg screamed. She had forgotten just how painful Hades's touch was; it was like rubbing ice into an open wound. He continued to caress her, seemingly oblivious to her pain. "Why not bring everyone back here? Why not have us a little party?"

**WARM ON THE SAND**

"Stop whining and put it on!"

He did not know where Vanessa had gotten the servants' uniforms from. They were slightly damp, leading him to think that she'd stolen them from a clothesline. Gaston had put his on without complaint or hesitation. It was too tight and it itched, but he didn't really mind. Vanessa had donned hers with the same quick, eagerness. Claude had been reluctant and had complained, and he sulked as he wore the uniform.

Jafar refused to wear it. He refused to even hold it. "I am not a servant," said Jafar, folding his arms. "I refuse to demean myself by wearing this."

Vanessa was quickly losing patience. She threw the garment down, purposely splattering mud on Jafar's shoes. He glowered at her. "Then you stay out here," she hissed. "And make sure nothing goes wrong."

She turned on her heel and stomped towards the palace. Gaston and Claude trailed after her. The palace was a splendid one. It was composed of shiny white stones and had a blue roof. It was perched on a precipice near the ocean; salty sea air carried the calls of the seagulls and the dull crashing of the waves.

Vanessa entered the palace as if she owned it, but the servant girl who was busily scrubbing the floor paid no attention to her. The palace was as magnificent inside as it was outside. The walls were hung with tapestries and portraits in gilded frames. There were little tables in the hallway, each holding a vase filled with flowers. Gaston was so busy looking around that he was barely able to keep up with Vanessa and Claude.

"My lady, you must come with me immediately."

Vanessa had barged into the room without knocking and was addressing a young-looking woman with flame-red hair. The woman was wearing a blue dress and was seated at a dressing table, brushing her hair. She turned quickly, staring at Vanessa, Gaston, and Claude with a puzzled expression on her face. "What?"

Vanessa bowed, lowering her head with reluctance and obvious disdain. Gaston and Claude quickly mimicked her. "There isn't much time, my lady. Your presence is requested."

The red-headed woman stood up and put the hairbrush down. "Who are you?" she asked. She sounded suspicious.

Vanessa forced a smile, struggling to maintain her composure. "We are but your humble servants, my lady," she said, her voice edgy and laced with nastiness, "we have only recently come into your employ – "

The woman shook her head. "I know all of the servants," she said, "Eric and I didn't hire you three."

Vanessa stepped forward. She suddenly seemed taller. The woman's eyes widened, and she was forced to take a step back. "It's imperative that you come with us," she said.

The red-headed woman shook her head again and pointed to the door. "I want you to leave." Her free hand was resting on the dressing table.

Vanessa stepped forward. The woman moved suddenly, swinging her hand and knocking a music box off of the dressing table. It shattered at Vanessa's feet, making her cry out in surprise. The woman turned on her heel and darted to a door on the other side of the room. Vanessa sprang, charging after her, crushing fragments of the music box beneath her shoes.

Vanessa reached out and grabbed hold of the woman's hair, pulling as hard as she could. The woman screamed, her head jerking back and her arms flailing helplessly. Tears were streaming down her face. She clawed at Vanessa's hands, trying frantically to loosen her grip. "Let me go!" she shrieked, "let me go right now!"

Gaston heard a crash from downstairs, and he suddenly remembered the servant girl who'd been scrubbing the floor. Claude had grabbed the red-headed woman's arms and was binding her wrists together. "What do you want?" cried the woman. She squirmed and managed to kick Claude in the shin. She pulled away from Vanessa, leaving her holding a thick lock of hair. "My husband's a prince – if you want money – "

There was another deafening crash from downstairs, and Vanessa began to laugh. There was something wild and dangerous in her eyes, and the red-headed woman grew pale. "It isn't your prince or his money I'm after," said Vanessa. She grabbed the woman's arm and jerked her forward. The woman stumbled; Gaston noticed that she was barefoot. She had stepped on a fragment of the broken music box, leaving a small, bloody footprint. "It's you, Princess."

"This isn't possible! You're dead!"

Vanessa threw her head back and laughed. It was not a pleasant, melodic sound; it was thick and raspy, more a sinister cackle than an exclamation of joy. "Come on," said Claude impatiently. He grabbed the woman's other arm and started to drag her towards the doorway. She did not seem to notice the wound in her foot. She twisted and thrashed and tried to dig her heels into the floor.

Gaston followed them down the stairs. The woman continued to struggle. She nearly tripped several times, but she seemed unaware of this. The great hall that they had entered was no longer immaculate and pristine. The girl who had been scrubbing the floor was lying on her side next to the overturned bucket. A dozen men in soldier's uniforms were in a crumpled heap against the wall, like a child's collection of discarded toys. Jafar was standing in the center of the room, surveying the bodies with an air of boredom. He twirled the snake-shaped staff nonchalantly.

"More are probably on their way," he said. "I heard an awful lot of screaming."

The red-headed woman's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock. Gaston was bracing himself for another scream. "What have you done?" she asked, her voice surprisingly soft, "why did you do this if you only wanted me?"

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"It won't change anything, you know."

Hades puffed on the cigar and looked up from his cards. He had a relatively good hand – royal flush – but Sykes was good at poker. Poker was a game of patience, but at the moment, Hades had none. He'd had Meg for an hour, maybe a little less, and Hercules still hadn't shown up to rescue her. Hades's entire plan hinged on the meathead charging in to play the hero, and he still hadn't shown up.

"What?" he asked.

"You can do whatever you want to the girl," said Sykes, using his thumb to point over his shoulder at the room where Meg was currently locked away. "But the kid bested you once before. Hurting his girl won't change that."

Hades glared. "I need to show Wonderboy who's in charge here," said Hades, "I need to show him that nobody crosses me and gets away with it."

Sykes nodded. "Yeah. I hear that. Look where it got me."

"You don't seem too upset."

Sykes shrugged. "Got no real reason to be," he said. Two enormous Doberman pinschers sauntered over to him. They flopped down beside him, and he patted their heads. "I've got all I need right here." One of the dogs was resting its head against Sykes's leg. Sykes scratched behind its ears. "Besides, in the end, Fagin got what was coming to him."

Hades rolled his eyes. He was too impatient and distracted to notice the nervous-looking man wandering up and down the riverbank; there were so many souls, it was impossible to keep track of them all. Sykes continued talking, his gravelly voice droning on and on, but all Hades could focus on was what he would do once Hercules arrived.


	4. We Appear Without a Sound, Part II

**WE APPEAR WITHOUT A SOUND**

**THE UNDERWORLD**

Time moved awkwardly in the Underworld. It moved slowly, crawling along at a snail's pace while the world of the living raced on. Meg was surprised how quickly she'd readjusted to it. If her calculations were correct, she'd only been here for two hours, maybe a bit less. Her panic had not fully subsided; she had realized that she would not be able to escape on her own and that all she could do was hope for rescue.

Hercules would come for her. It was only a matter of time. Of course, that was exactly what Hades wanted. Since he couldn't leave the Underworld, his entire plan hinged on luring Hercules into it. Meg wondered where Hercules was, but part of her hoped that he wouldn't come.

As much as she loathed Hades, she would rather stay in the Underworld with him for eternity than cause Hercules any pain. It would be difficult, practically impossible, to cause him any physical pain, but Hades was well aware of that. Hades didn't intend to hurt Hercules physically. His intent was to inflict as much anguish on Hercules as he could by torturing Meg and forcing him to watch.

Meg squirmed, looking around the room for what had to be the hundredth time. The room was medium-sized and only contained two pieces of furniture: an enormous cage against the far wall, and an equally enormous bed, which Meg was tied to. She knew exactly what Hades would do to her.

He'd had his way with her before; it was practically the first thing he'd done when she'd sold her soul to him. The whole experience had been brutally painful and terrifying, but Meg had quickly discovered that Hades had difficulty responding to a willing partner. Unless she was screaming and struggling, he had trouble functioning. She had never told Hercules what Hades had done to her. She did not want him to know about it; it was something that she herself was deeply ashamed of. The more irrational part of her was convinced that he would think that she was dirty and stop loving her if her knew.

She tugged at the shackles again. They seemed to tighten on their own accord. She stopped moving and waited for them to relax their grip. The chains were completely smooth; there was no keyhole that she could attempt to pick at. She slid her elbow along the sheets beneath her, wishing that she could at least cover herself. Hades had taken her clothes before tying her up, making the experience that much more humiliating. She was vulnerable and completely exposed, and all she could do was wait.

**ANOTHER ARABIAN NIGHT**

He found Abu playing with the puppy, and was thoroughly surprised to see him getting along with another creature. Abu was self-centered; his inability to share anything and his prank-like style of playing tended to have a negative effect on other, less understanding animals. The puppy, however, seemed to love it.

Abu would lightly tug the puppy's tail, sending it into a barking frenzy and making it chase him around the room. Once the puppy caught up to Abu, it would lick his face instead of trying to bite him. Abu reciprocated by petting the puppy behind its ears and rubbing its belly.

"Who's this?" Aladdin finally caught up to the puppy and picked it up. It wiggled in his hands, trying to lick his face. There was a thin blue band with a gold tag around the puppy's neck. Aladdin struggled to make out the writing on the tag. It would have been much easier if the puppy would hold still for a minute.

The puppy was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. It had soft white fur that was covered with little black spots. He wondered where it had come from. When he was finally able to read the little gold tag, he found that it only said "Lucky," which he assumed was the puppy's name.

"You're name is Lucky?" he asked. The puppy responded by licking his face. "Well, where did you come from?"

The puppy continued to squirm, and Aladdin set it down on the floor. It began running around again, scampering in great circles in what appeared to be an attempt to explore the room. It was such a funny little thing. Aladdin wondered where its energy came from; he was getting tired just by watching it.

The puppy suddenly vanished. It was as if it had fallen through a hole in the floor. Abu began screeching, jumping up and down and pointing at the spot where the puppy had once been. Aladdin rushed over. Surely the puppy couldn't have disappeared, that just wasn't possible. It had to be hiding somewhere. He knelt on the floor near where the puppy had once been. He could hear it barking, but it sounded distant, like an echo.

He reached out and was thoroughly surprised when his hand went through the floor. It was like sticking his hand through a hole, except that the floor looked perfectly normal. There were no marks or scratches, nothing that would indicate that there was a hole in the floor. Aladdin reached into the hole again, groping around. He felt nothing but cold air.

Behind him, Abu had stopped jumping and screeching and was watching him, sitting and playing nervously with his tail. Aladdin turned to him. "I want you to stay here, all right?" He tapped the floor near where Abu was sitting, the part of the floor that was still tangible, "you have to make sure no one falls through this, you understand?"

Abu nodded nervously. He was smarter than most monkeys; if Aladdin told him to do something, he'd be able to do it. Whether or not he would was usually a different story, but this time Abu looked far too frightened to disobey him. "I'm just going to see what's down there," said Aladdin. "And I'll get your puppy back, I promise."

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"I don't need to bring anyone back. I just want to go home for a while. An hour, a minute, anything." Begging like this was beneath him, but he was dealing with a god, and making a simple demand wouldn't do him any good. Gaston was almost positive that he'd be able to take Hades in a fight if it was a fair one, that is, if Hades was stripped of his otherworldly powers.

Hades was shuffling through a deck of cards and puffing on a cigar. His demonic yellow eyes kept darting to the door, and the flames on his head leapt spastically. His patience was running out. Gaston knew that he was risking a lot by harassing him.

"Then go help Vanessa or Ursula or whatever she's calling herself today." Hades waved a long-fingered hand distractedly at him. "Or help someone else. Just go away."

Gaston frowned. "I helped you," he said. "I went up and brought that woman back for you, and in return, you said you'd help me."

The deck of cards in Hades's hands burst into flames. Ashes fell to the floor like black snowflakes. Gaston steeled himself, waiting for some form of Hades's wrath. Hades owed him one favor, and he'd collect it no matter what it took. He'd get to go home. Even if it was only for a little while, even if it was only for a few seconds – Gaston didn't care.

He missed the little town and the people in it. He missed the fresh air, full of the smell of fresh bread or cooking meat or ale. He missed his friends, LeFou in particular. He just wanted to see it all one last time.

Unlike the others, he didn't feel much bitterness over his death. True, he had been taken in the prime of life, before he could really experience it properly, but he had no one to blame but himself. He'd been stupid enough to go after a beast he knew nothing about, and it had gotten the better of him. Like any good hunter, he should have known better than to tackle something like that.

All he wanted was to get his life back one last time. It wasn't an unreasonable request. He stared at Hades, waiting for him to decide whether to grant the request or to smite him.

"You're right," snapped Hades. He looked jittery and annoyed. "You're right." A portal opened in the floor, and Hades pointed at it. "Go."

Gaston stepped towards the portal, then paused. Surely everyone in town knew that he was dead. How would they all react to seeing him? Everyone would panic, chaos would erupt, and he'd probably be chased out of town. He looked up at Hades. "I need to be invisible," he said.

Hades rolled his eyes. "No you don't, just go – "

Gaston glared. "No. I need to be invisible. I can't go otherwise."

The flames on Hades's head flickered and began to turn orange. Gaston swallowed his fear and stepped away from the portal. He folded his arms and stared at Hades, trying his hardest not to shake. He'd never seen Hades this angry before, and it was frightening.

"All right, fine!" Hades's voice was thin, and he spoke through gritted teeth. He glided across the Underworld, away from Gaston, much to his relied. He was standing over what appeared to be a cauldron. Gaston was tempted to follow him, but was far too afraid of his wrath. "Here." Hades handed him a vial filled with pink liquid. "It'll last for an hour. Now go!"

"Thank you."

He swallowed the potion without tasting it and stepped into the portal.

**WHERE LIFE IS NEAT AND SMOOTH AS SWEET VERMOUTH**

He had encountered many monsters before, but never one like this. He was actually fairly certain – despite Phil's protests – that this actually wasn't a monster. At least, not in the traditional sense.

For starters, it didn't look like a monster. It looked like a child. Hercules had circled it several times and hadn't found a trace of anything even remotely dangerous. No fangs or claws, no blazing, hateful eyes, no wings or scales – it looked for all the world like a perfectly normal, mortal child. The only abnormality was that it was over fifty feet tall.

It was clearly flustered and baffled, as if it didn't know where it was or how it had gotten there. The crowd's reaction to it clearly wasn't helping. The citizens of Thebes had immediately panicked. The creature did not appear to have control over its own body; it staggered and stumbled, stepping on houses and bringing trees crashing down. The Thebans were screaming for it to be killed immediately, and they practically refused to leave the area as he'd instructed. They were curious and wanted to see how he would handle the creature.

He dug his heels into Pegasus's sides, making the steed fly higher, towards the creature's face. It had bright blue eyes that regarded him curiously. "Hello," he shouted. The creature blinked and winced; it occurred to him that he'd just screamed in its ear. "Can you understand me?"

"Yes!"

He was startled when the creature replied. Of all the monsters he'd dealt with, none of them had ever actually been capable of speech. He was seriously beginning to doubt that this was, in fact, a monster. It wasn't tall enough to be a giant…maybe it was a baby giant. Giants were rare; Hercules had never actually seen a baby giant. Perhaps it had become separated from its mother.

"All right, what are you?" he asked.

"I'm Alice," said the creature.

"Are you a giant?" he asked. If the creature – the Alice-thing – did turn out to be a baby giant, he wouldn't have a problem bringing it back to its mother. He wondered how it had wandered so far away from its parents in the first place.

The Alice-thing looked puzzled and shook its head. "No," it said. "At least, I'm not supposed to be." It looked down at itself, staring at its hands and feet. "Though it's been so long since I was my normal size…I can't quite recall how tall I'm supposed to be…" It looked around, its lower lip trembling.

Hercules glanced around. He needed to get the people to move. If the Alice began to cry, there was a good chance that its tears would cause a flood. He had never heard of an Alice before. "There, there," he said, trying to seem friendly, "there's no need to cry." He looked around and noticed a large building with pillars. It would be able to support the Alice's weight. He motioned to it. "Sit down for a moment."

The Alice looked around, then lumbered over to the building and sat. The pillars creaked and groaned, but they held. The Alice held its head in its hands and sighed. "I wish I knew where I was," it said.

"You're in Thebes. Do you know where your parents are?"

The Alice shook its head. "I've been trying to get home," it said. "You see, there was a white rabbit, and I was curious, so I followed it…" the Alice sighed again. "I wish I hadn't."

**THE UNDERWORLD**

He had slipped through the hole in the floor with relative ease. He was standing near a river of some sort, but it looked drab and lifeless. The sky above him was like a thick gray stone. Aladdin didn't like the place one bit. It was far too quiet. There was absolute silence apart from the rushing river. He knelt and carefully drew an X in the dirt underneath the hole he'd crawled through.

He heard barking, accompanied by faint voices, and felt relief flood him. The puppy was somewhere down here, as were other people. Hopefully, they'd be able to explain where exactly he was and how he'd gotten there. He followed the voices. They grew more distinct as he moved closer to them, and he felt his relief begin to subside.

"But where did it come from?"

"I don't know. It probably died."

"No. Animals don't come down here, just people. Besides, this little fellow's still got a pulse. He's not supposed to be here."

There was a large object blocking the path, and Aladdin took the opportunity to hide behind it. At first he'd thought that it was a rock, but upon closer inspection, he found something much different. The object appeared to be a large glass tube. There was a red-headed woman inside of it, lying on her side. She was asleep; Aladdin could see her shoulders rising and falling. He tapped on the glass.

"Hey," he whispered, "can you hear me?"

The woman stirred groggily and opened her eyes. She looked around, then slowly sat up, rubbing her head. She looked confused. She stared at him, her eyes wide and fish-like, as if she wasn't sure if he was really there.

"Can you hear me?" it was stupid to ask; he was whispering. The woman stared at him, then crawled towards him and put her hand against the glass. She tapped the glass inquisitively. It occurred to Aladdin that she was trapped inside of a giant glass bowl.

He looked around, hoping to find a rock that he could use to break the glass, but found nothing but withered grass and sand. He peeked around the side of the bowl. Three shadowy figures were standing in a huddled group. Aladdin could hear the puppy barking and could see its white fur flickering in the fog. Someone was evidently trying to hold it, but it was squirming too much. Aladdin saw the puppy leap to the ground and race towards him, its pink tongue lolling.

"Damn!"

"Can we go now? We don't need Gaston or Ursula. We can do this one ourselves."

"Listen, I need to find out how that dog got in here." One of the figures was moving towards him. Aladdin shrank back into the shadows. He had never seen a man like the one that had just emerged from the fog.

The man was blue, and his head was on fire, though he didn't seem to notice this. He had huge yellow eyes that were sweeping along the ground, searching for the puppy. Aladdin tucked the puppy into his vest, trying desperately to muffle its barking. He didn't know who or what the blue man was, but he didn't want to be anywhere near him. The woman in the glass bowl had a similar idea, but instead of trying to hide herself, she screamed.

The sound was muffled by the glass, but it was still loud enough to be heard. The blue man looked at her without interest. "Oh, you're awake." He spotted Aladdin next. Aladdin scrambled to his feet, clutching the wriggling puppy. "You that thing's owner?"

Something in the fog moved, and Aladdin was suddenly too terrified to speak. All he could to was stare in horror as Jafar emerged gracefully from the fog.

**LITTLE TOWN, IT'S A QUIET VILLAGE**

Being back in his hometown was strange and surreal, and Gaston almost wished that he hadn't come back. All the familiar sights, sounds, and smells were just too intense. They overwhelmed him. Had he been visible, he would have looked like a confused outsider, someone who had never set foot in the town.

He heard a loud banging sound from behind him and turned around. It was midday, but the doors to the tavern were now wide open, and the bartender was standing on the steps. He was looking over his shoulder, into the tavern, and was pointing emphatically at the exit. "Look at you!" he scolded, "it's not even noon and you're drunk as a sailor! Get out and go home!"

"I'm fine." The voice from inside the bar was muffled and slurred, but it was also familiar. Gaston stepped closer, watching intently. He had spent his entire life in this town, but he had never, ever seen the bartender kick a patron out. He had also never seen anyone drunk before nightfall. Beer was never served until after supper. Who on earth would be drinking in the middle of the day?

"No you're not." The bartender turned on his heel and stormed into the tavern. Before Gaston could get any closer, he emerged, pulling someone behind him. "Go on home and sleep it off."

"I don't need to!" Gaston had seen LeFou drunk before, but never like this. He could barely stand up, and he stank to high heaven of beer. The smell was downright offensive. LeFou blinked and rubbed his eyes, then tried to turn and walk back into the tavern. He stumbled, tripping over his own feet. "I'm…I'm just thirsty…"

"Go home, LeFou. I'm not going to serve you anything else."

"You don't care! He was my best friend and now he's dead and you don't care!"

"Now LeFou, you know that's not true. It happened years ago. It's time to stop mourning and move on. Gaston wouldn't want you to do this to yourself…"

Gaston watched in silence as LeFou squirmed away from the bartender and staggered away from the tavern. How long had it been since he had died? He had no idea. He certainly hadn't thought it would be _years_. How had so much time passed? And LeFou…he was so sad. Gaston had never seen him so upset about anything before; it nearly broke his heart to watch his best friend suffer so much.

He wondered if there was any way to make the invisibility potion stop working. LeFou needed to see him, to know that being dead wasn't so bad. The thought triggered a chain reaction inside of Gaston's head. Being dead wasn't so bad…it was the boredom and the loneliness, that was what made it unbearable. But if LeFou could somehow join him in the Underworld, it wouldn't be so lonely.

Gaston sprinted after LeFou; his thoughts were barely coherent. All he could see was LeFou's sadness and the one way he could end it. LeFou had reached his house and was now attempting to climb the stairs. He was so drunk, he kept tripping over himself. The stairs were relatively steep. Gaston watched LeFou, suddenly aware that he could hear his heartbeat. It was a loud, sad thumping sound, and it seemed to justify everything.

LeFou was halfway up the stairs when Gaston grabbed the back of his jacket. He did not pull very hard, only enough to cause LeFou to lose his balance. He did not stay and watch to see what would happen; by the time LeFou finished tumbling down the stairs, Gaston was plunging through the portal. He had to get to the Underworld before LeFou did to make sure that he didn't land in the river. If he landed in the river, all would be lost; there was no way Gaston could get in and rescue him. Strong as he was, the current was even stronger.


	5. We Appear Without a Sound, Part III

**WE APPEAR WITHOUT A SOUND**

**THE UNDERWORLD**

He was completely out of breath by the time he got to the mouth of the river. How is this even possible, he wondered, how can a dead man be out of breath? It didn't matter; he'd made it. He watched, trying to catch his breath, completely oblivious to the argument unfolding behind him. They were always squabbling over something, this was nothing new. Gaston watched the steady stream of souls as they entered the river, ready to reach out and grab LeFou whenever he materialized.

"I won't ask you this again, boy, how did you get here?"

Gaston could hear Jafar shouting, but, curious as he was, he did not turn around. He fixed his gaze on the river and waited.

"Let go of me!" A man's voice, edgy and panicked.

A loud, snapping sound, followed by a sharp wail of pain. "How did you get here?" Hades now, shouting. "If you didn't die, how did you get here?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Listen, kid..." Hades again, this time trying to stay calm. "You're not supposed to be here unless you've died or unless someone's brought you here, do you understand? You can't just wander in to the Underworld whenever you feel like it, you need to die first!"

The silence was unbearable, and Gaston focused on the river. LeFou's hand suddenly shot out of the waves, and Gaston grabbed onto it. He felt LeFou's icy fingers gripping his hand, and he pulled as hard as he could. LeFou refused to budge; it was like pulling someone out of a vat of tar. Gaston gritted his teeth and pulled, digging his heels into the riverbank. He would not lose his best friend like this.

"Then I'm dead."

"Don't lie to me, you rotten little bastard!" Hades was screaming now. "I'm God of the Dead, don't act like I don't know a corpse from a live one!" Gaston glanced over his shoulder, his curiosity finally winning out. He somehow wasn't surprised to see a man floating upside down in the air in front of Hades and Jafar. The man appeared to be bound with some sort of glowing red rope. What surprised Gaston was that he wasn't struggling. He was watching Hades and Jafar, his dark brown eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"You're the God of the Dead?" said the man quickly, "I've been looking for you! I was sent by the other gods to give you a message – "

"He's lying," said Jafar, "it's the only thing he's good at. Just give him to me so I can have my revenge."

"_He's_ the one who sent you here?" asked Hades.

"Yes," said Jafar impatiently, "now let me have him!"

Gaston could feel LeFou's hand slipping, and he tightened his grip. LeFou's head was still completely submerged. "I need some help!" he called, looking over at Hades and Jafar. "Please, someone help me!"

Hades was at his side almost instantly, frightening him so badly he nearly screamed. "Help you with what, Gaston?"

He knew that Hades was mocking him, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except getting LeFou out of the river. "It's my friend," he said, "he's stuck, and I can't get him out – "

"Your friend?" Hades arched an eyebrow and laughed. "Funny, I didn't think that friends killed each other because they were lonely."

"It isn't like that!" It was useless to lie; Hades somehow knew the truth. Gaston wished that it wasn't true. Hearing Hades say it made the deed sound monstrous and vile, made him sound like the scum of the earth.

"Is he really going to be your friend if he knows that you killed him?" asked Hades.

Gaston could feel LeFou's hand slipping. He wished that he didn't know the answer. LeFou would hate him if he knew; who could possibly befriend someone who had killed them? If LeFou ever found out, the knowledge would create an impossible rift between them. He'd break off all ties. Gaston would lose him forever.

"Hades, please…please don't tell him…I'll do anything…"

Hades grinned and snapped his fingers. LeFou shot out of the river as if he'd been fired from a canon. Gaston fell over backwards, landing so hard he saw stars dancing in his eyes. He looked around frantically. LeFou was several feet behind him, lying on his side. Gaston scrambled to his feet, staggering and stumbling in his panic. Hades blocked his path. "Go help Jafar and Claude," he said, "you can see your friend when you get back."

He realized quickly that he couldn't refuse, that he had to do whatever Hades commanded. So long as he kept Hades happy, his secret would be safe. It was a rotten deal; Gaston hated being in debt to anyone. Still, there was nothing that he could do except follow Claude and Jafar to the portal that would lead them to Claude's world.

**SAFE BEHIND THESE WINDOWS AND THESE PARAPETS OF STONE**

"You shouldn't be climbing all those stairs," he was saying. She sat down, unable to suppress the sigh of relief. She knew that his heart was in the right place, that he cared about her, but she wished that he wouldn't treat her as if she was made out of glass.

"I'm fine," she said, leaning back. Her feet did ache, but the pain would pass; she would never tell him about the pain. It would only worry him. "Besides, I wanted to see you."

"Well, I was going to come and visit you," he said, "I really was. I was just finishing this…" He approached her, holding something shiny in both hands.

Esmerelda took it from him. It a thin, circular hoop with strings attached to it. There were bits of colored glass tied to the strings. She held it up, letting the sunlight catch it. The colored glass shone, sparkling like multicolored gemstones. She'd never seen anything so beautiful. She was so mesmerized by it that she almost forgot about Quasimodo.

"It's beautiful," she said, tearing her eyes away from the colored glass.

"You can hang it up above the baby's cradle," said Quasimodo. He took it from her. "I'm not finished yet. I need to smooth the glass so the baby won't get hurt."

She smiled at him. "I think it's beautiful."

He smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

She was about to speak, to say just how wonderful the hanging glass looked in the light, but she was interrupted by a loud cracking sound. The sound was accompanied by a horrible smell, like that of rotting meat. Esmerelda gagged. She got up and stumbled to the parapet, sticking her head out into the fresh air and taking great gulps of it.

"Ugh! That smell! I wonder where it came from…" she glanced back over her shoulder when Quasimodo didn't respond to her. He was standing perfectly still, staring at the door. Esmerelda went to him tentatively; she was suddenly terrified. She was not sure what she expected to find him staring at, but she was not at all relieved when she noticed that the door was closed. Instead of looking safe and comforting, it looked ominous.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Quasimodo pointed to the door. "Listen."

She heard the voices on the other side of the door clearly. She had not heard anyone ascending the stairs, however; the stairs always creaked and groaned, it was impossible to climb them silently.

"The hunchback will be here. The girl will be harder to find." There was something oddly familiar about the voice, and it made Esmerelda shudder.

Quasimodo went to the door and shoved a chair under the knob. He turned to her. "Go," he said, pointing. His face was ashen and his eyes were wide and panicked. She had never seen him look so frightened. "Down the south tower steps, right now."

She turned, too frightened to even think about disobeying him. The doorknob rattled; whoever was on the other side began to pound angrily on it. Esmerelda began to run as fast as her legs would carry her. She heard the door bang open as she reached the parapet, and she heard Quasimodo scream.

She glanced over her shoulder, frightened and curious and concerned. When she saw Claude Frollo standing in the shattered remains of the doorway, she began to scream too. His steely blue eyes shifted, staring at her. He stood frozen, his expression confused and shocked. Esmerelda felt the baby kick. She fled, racing across the parapet and towards the south tower stairs, one hand pressed against her belly and the other reaching for the door.

Behind her, she could hear a loud, horrible crashing sound, but her hand was on the knob, and suddenly, she was falling.

**THE UNDERWORLD**

His head seemed to spin. All he could feel was panic, sharp and jagged, prickling inside of his mind. He had to convince the blue man to let him go before Jafar got back. He had to get back to the palace and warn everyone. He had to find a way to close the hole in the floor that had let him down here in the first place.

"How did you get here?" shouted the blue man. The flames on top of his head turned bright orange and began leaping higher and higher.

Aladdin shook his head, struggling to think clearly. Someone – the pale man in black – had referred to the blue man as the God of the Dead. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. "I'm a messenger," he said. "The God of Life sent me down here to give a message to the God of the Dead."

The blue man arched an eyebrow. "Oh? What's his name, this God of Life?"

"He goes by many names," said Aladdin, wracking his mind frantically. He had to come up with something, anything.

"Wrong," said the blue man. "His name is Zeus, and he's my brother. And if he had a message for me, he'd've sent that jackass Ares." The smoky gray chains binding Aladdin seemed to tighten on their own. "Tell me how you got down here."

"Why?" asked Aladdin, "why is it so important?"

The blue man glared at him. "It means that there is a hole somewhere," said the blue man. His voice was icy and angry, his tone slightly condescending. "And I have to close that hole, you understand? Tell me where the hole is so I can close it."

"Only if you let me out."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said the blue man. "You see, I've made a deal with Jafar. You've met before, right? I mean, you killed him and all, so I assume that you have. Anyway, he did me a favor, and now I owe him one, you get it?"

Aladdin shook his head. "I'm not telling you where the hole is."

The blue man grinned, showing off a mouth full of sharp, fanged teeth. "You will. You will."

**NEVER-LAND**

The twins had seen something fall from the sky, and they had rushed to tell him about it. Tink had insisted on coming with him to investigate, and he let her tag along. She could always run for help if anything went wrong. Peter doubted that anything bad would happen, though.

Tink was pointing at something now, her tiny hands moving frantically. Peter followed her gaze and saw something purple lying on the ground. Whatever had fallen from the sky had been lucky enough to land in the jungle, where the bushes and leaves were thick and soft as pillows. Peter descended quickly.

The purple thing moved, and Peter realized that it was a woman. He had seen women before; when he ventured out into the world, he sat outside bedroom windows and listened to women tell their children stories. Peter had never seen a woman in Never-Land, though. He landed on the ground beside her.

Her eyes were closed, but her shoulders were rising and falling with her breath. There was something different about her, something very special. Tink seemed to sense it too; she was standing on his shoulder, staring wide-eyed and silent at the woman. The woman's stomach was swollen, like a large purple plum. There was a baby inside of it. Peter wasn't sure how exactly he knew this, but he did know it, and that was all that mattered. The woman had a baby inside of her. She was a mother. He would have to keep her safe from the pirates.

The woman stirred and opened her eyes. She looked around, clearly confused, and then sat up. She was rubbing her head. Peter went to her immediately and helped her to her feet. "Where am I?" she asked.

"You're in Never-Land," Peter replied. "Haven't you come to be our new mother?"

**THE UNDERWORLD**

Everyone was talking and shouting at once, creating an unholy cacophony. Gaston edged as far away from Hades as he possibly could; Hades's bright yellow eyes were full of seething anger and the blue flames on his head had begun to turn red and orange. It was like watching a keg of dynamite about to explode.

The man that Claude had brought back with him (if he could even be called a man; he was hideous and ape-like, more monster than man) was lying on the floor, and was the only one, aside from Gaston, who was not partaking in the argument. The man was on his side, his arms bound crudely behind his misshaped back. Gaston could see his hands moving back and forth slowly. If he kept it up, he'd be able to free himself.

"The witch is still out there," said Claude, pointing at the closing portal on the ground, "she escaped from me and – "

"He is mine!" shouted Jafar, shoving Claude rudely aside and fixing his gaze upon a man bound in chains and suspended in the air beside Hades. The man looked nervously at Jafar, as if he was trying his best to ignore him.

"If you let me out, I'll tell you where the hole is," he said, addressing Hades. His voice shook.

"Gaston, what's going on?" LeFou was suddenly by his side, tugging on his arm. "Where are we? How did we get here?"

"Enough!" screamed Hades. His entire body burst into red and orange flames; Claude and Jafar leapt back, shielding themselves with their arms. The flames vanished almost as quickly as they had appeared, but Hades did not look calm at all. He turned to Claude and Jafar. "Go help Claude get the other one," he shouted. Jafar glowered, but did not protest. Hades smoothed his robes. "You can have your…what did you call him? Your 'street rat' after he tells me where the portal is."

"He is mine," said Jafar, stamping his foot. "You promised me vengeance, and I will have it."

"I know." Hades's voice was strained and his teeth were clenched. Gaston and LeFou instinctively took a step backwards. "However, I have to close the portal so that no one else can get in here. You can have him after he tells me where it is."

"Surely a God would be able to find this portal – "

"And surely an educated man like yourself would know not to piss off a God!" shouted Hades. Flames shot from his hand, scorching the ground beside Jafar. Jafar flinched. It was a small movement, but he had revealed his fear nonetheless. Hades grinned, showing off a row of thin sharp teeth. "Now, by the time you get back, we'll have this whole thing sorted out," he said, his tone sickeningly saccharine.

**ANOTHER ARABIAN NIGHT**

"Abu, stop that!"

Normally Jasmine did not mind the monkey crawling on her shoulders, but it was starting to irritate her. The instant she had walked into the room, Abu had sprang at her and crawled up onto her shoulders, tugging on her hair and screeching. She squirmed, finally managing to get her hands around the struggling brown monkey and pulled him off of her. "Stop it," she said, "what's gotten into you, Abu?"

Abu leapt from her arms and scampered across the floor. He stopped in the center of the room and stared at her. He began jumping up and down, squealing and pointing at the floor as if it was a monster. Jasmine tiptoed towards him, stopping a foot away from him. There was nothing interesting about the floor. It was plain and unremarkable. Still, it seemed to terrify Abu, and this made her feel strangely uneasy.

Aladdin would probably know what was happening. After all, Abu was his pet. She suddenly wondered where Aladdin was. It wasn't like him to spend so much time away from her. He usually followed her around, trailing her from room to room as if he was afraid of getting lost inside of the castle. She suddenly found herself wondering if Aladdin had something to do with Abu's newfound fear of the floor.

Jasmine knelt, bringing herself to Abu's eye level. "Abu, where is Aladdin?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

Abu continued to point at the floor. Jasmine sighed. It had been foolish to think that the monkey would know where Aladdin was. Rajah padded into the room and sat beside her, watching Abu with a curious expression on his face. Rajah and Abu got along fairly well; Abu occasionally annoyed the tiger, but Rajah had not killed or eaten him.

Jasmine watched Rajah as he stared at Abu. Rajah's eyes seemed to darken, and he stood up. He walked towards the patch of floor that Abu was pointing frantically at and lowered his head to sniff at it. He jerked back, recoiling as if the floor had burned him, and growled at it. Jasmine leapt to her feet without realizing it. She stepped forward tentatively and shrieked when she felt her foot sink through the floor as if it wasn't there at all.

She pulled herself back, gasping and stared at the floor. It was impossible! There was no way she could just pass through the floor. Abu scampered towards her, climbing up onto her shoulder and hiding behind her hair. She could feel him shivering and heard him whimpering in terror. Rajah was crouched, staring at the spot where her foot had started to sink. The fur on his back was raised and he was growling. She had had Rajah ever since he was a tiny tiger cub; she had never in her life felt afraid of him until now.

Jasmine took a deep breath and knelt again. She placed her hand on the floor, and this time, she did not cry out when it passed through the marble. She could feel cool, damp air. She groped, finding a smooth, circular edge. She leaned forward, ignoring Abu's screeching and Rajah's growling, and peeked in through the invisible hole in the floor.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_I know that I'm usually a lot quicker with updates, and I apologize for the wait. However, after two incredibly stressful years, I have finally secured a full-time job. This means that I have less time for fanfiction. I haven't abandoned this story, but the updates may not come as quickly as they have in the past.  
_


	6. The Darkest Show Around

**THE DARKEST SHOW AROUND**

**SAFE BEHIND THESE WINDOWS AND THESE PARAPETS OF STONE**

He knew that something was wrong as he ascended the stairs leading to the bell tower. The top two steps were black. They were charred, and when he put his hand on them, they felt warm to the touch, as if they had been burning. The bell tower smelled; it was a nasty, foul stench that reminded him of death. Rotting flesh, thought Phoebus, drawing his sword and surveying the bell tower.

He did not like what he saw, and he had struggled to swallow his panic. The door to the bell tower had been smashed in. The floor was covered with bits of wood and broken glass. The table and chairs had been overturned. Worst of all – worse than the foul stench – was the smear of blood in the center of the room.

"Esmerelda? Quasimodo?" he was greeted by silence, and it chilled him despite the day's heat. His wife was missing. His pregnant wife was missing, and, judging by the blood on the floor, she was probably hurt too. He called her name again, shouting until his voice was trembling and hoarse.

He searched the bell tower as thoroughly as he could, taking care not to step in the smear of blood. There were some bloody footprints scattered around the bell tower; he could make out Quasimodo's misshapen foot. The other footprints were made by men wearing shoes. They didn't seem to lead anywhere, though. They randomly stopped, as if the men who had made them had simply vanished into thin air.

Strangest of all was the center of the smear of blood. There was a perfectly square patch in the center of the blood. The square was perfectly clean. It had been untouched by the blood. How could the blood – which seemed to cover the entire floor – have missed a perfect square? Had some small, square object (a book, Phoebus thought, it was book-shaped) been on the floor? Where was it now?

Phoebus touched the square and was surprised when his hand sank into the floor. He jerked his hand back and pulled his glove off. He tossed the glove onto the floor. It fell straight through the floor and out of sight, as if it had gone through a hole. He tapped the floor with his bare hand now and was surprised to feel something smooth, like paper. It felt like he was touching pieces of paper, like his hand was inside of a book.

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"You have to let me out of here!"

The thing on the other side of the glass (Ursula, it was Ursula, but Ursula was dead, she was dead and couldn't ever come back) laughed. "I don't have to do anything, Princess."

Ariel shook her head. "Whoever you are – whatever you are – just please let me out!"

The thing stared at her now, its eyes narrow and angry. "How can you not recognize me?" it shouted, "after all you did to me, after all you put me through, how can you not recognize me?"

"You can't be Ursula – Ursula is dead!"

The thing smiled. Ariel shrank away from the glass, suddenly glad that it was there to protect her. There was no doubt in her mind now. It was impossible, absolutely impossible, but it was happening. "This is a dream," whispered Ariel, "this is a dream, I have to wake up."

"Not a dream, my dear princess," said Ursula. "A nightmare."

There was a loud crackling sound, and Ariel suddenly felt something cold and wet pouring down on her head. She looked up, squinting into the rain of salt water. Ursula was laughing so hard her entire body was shaking like a rowboat in a storm. Ariel stared at her. Surely this wasn't her idea of torture! It was ridiculous. Ariel had once been a mermaid. Changing into a human had not diminished her love of the ocean and all things in it. She was an excellent swimmer! She could spend hours frolicking in the waves.

Being placed in a glass bowl and surrounded by water wasn't a punishment at all. "I must be dreaming," murmured Ariel.

**IN A SHINING CASTLE**

The book was moving. Belle stared at it, too frightened to take her eyes off of it and shaking too much to even try to pick it up. She had put the book down after the ink had suddenly turned blood red. Now the book was moving, rocking back and forth as if it was trying to open itself.

"I'm sick," whispered Belle, as though hearing it aloud would reassure her. "I must be sicker than I thought. I should go lie down."

The book lurched forward and fell to the floor, where it continued to flop around like a fish out of water. It wriggled and thrashed; pages began to rip and tear, bits and pieces of them falling to the floor like snowflakes. Belle watched in astonishment as a glove emerged from the book. It was as if the book had just spat the glove up. She bent and picked the glove up, never taking her eyes off of the book.

It was a man's glove made of brown leather. How on earth had it just popped out of a book, though? Belle pinched her cheek, flinching at the pain it brought. She wasn't dreaming. The glove was real. It was solid, tangible. It smelled like horses and felt rough. She returned her attention to the book. It was lying perfectly still. A man's hand was reaching up from the pages. It groped at the air, reaching and probing curiously. Belle held her breath, watching in disbelief as the hand was followed by an arm and a shoulder.

The man who emerged from the book was tall and blonde, and he wore a bronze suit of armor. He looked just as confused as she felt. He looked around, bewildered. "Where am I?" he asked finally.

"This…this is my home," said Belle. She swallowed her fear and approached him, handing him the brown glove. He took it and thanked her. "My name is Belle," she said. "And I'd like to know how you got here."

The man shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said. He picked up the book, staring down at it. "I was in Notre Dame, looking for my wife, and…well, it's as if there was a hole in the floor."

She did not know what a Notre Dame was. She shook her head and pointed at the book. "You came out of that book."

The man opened the book. "This is all very strange," he said. "I need to find my wife, though." He looked at her. ". I'm afraid she's hurt."

Belle shook her head again. "I haven't seen anyone. Maybe I can help you find her."

**THE UNDERWORLD**

Wherever she was, she was very sure that she was no longer in Agrabah. This place – which had somehow magically appeared beneath the floor – was cold and desolate. It was barren; the desert with its endless stretches of sand seemed rich and fertile in comparison. The place also smelled odd. It was a scent Jasmine had never encountered before, but it seemed somehow familiar. It made her think of death, although she couldn't say why. She had never encountered death before; it was still a very foreign concept to her.

Rajah and Abu seemed to be slowing her down, Rajah in particular. He obviously didn't like this place, and kept pausing to snarl and growl at shadows. He sniffed at the ground, flaring his nostrils in disgust; Jasmine wanted him to lead them to Aladdin. She was tempted to call out his name, just to break the overbearing silence that engulfed them, but she feared that doing so would bring forth some strange and hideous monstrosity from the shadows.

Rajah was leading her towards a slope, which she climbed slowly. The grass beneath her feet was thick and mossy; it stuck to her shoes as though it was trying to pull her down. There were thick clumps of vegetation near the top of the hill. The bushes were dark and almost shapeless; they seemed to shift uncomfortably. Watching them rustle back and forth made Jasmine suddenly aware that there was no wind in this place. The air hung thickly, like a great curtain. The rustling bushes only made her more uncomfortable.

The silence was suddenly shattered by a piercing scream. Jasmine fled, feeling more vulnerable than ever, and nearly flung herself into the shapeless shrubs at the top of the hill. She was relieved to find that Rajah had accompanied her, but her relief quickly faded when she noticed that the tiger seemed to be shivering. She knelt and embraced her pet, thankful that he was there with her. Abu had been clinging to her shoulders, hiding beneath her long dark hair, and he crept quickly into her arms.

"We have to find Aladdin," whispered Jasmine, stroking Rajah's ears, "we have to find him and bring him out of here."

The scream came again. It sounded like a woman's voice, but Jasmine could not be sure. She looked around. The shrubbery was thick and dense, but she could make her way through it. She crawled, sliding across the thick mossy grass on her belly, towards a thin, silvery opening beneath the shrubs. She shuddered. The grass felt withered and dead, and it scraped at her skin. She gritted her teeth and ignored it as best she could.

She made it to the opening and peeked out. She was now at the very top of the hill. A wide, flat, nearly-plantless plot of land stretched on in front of her. The sky above it was nearly black, as if a thunderstorm was approaching. There was a river at the bottom of the hill, and what looked like a little house on the opposite bank. Jasmine wasn't sure if she felt relieved or not; whoever lived in a place like this was not likely to be friendly. There was a great deal of commotion at the base of the hill, and Jasmine quickly forgot about the little house near the river.

A huge glass ball was at the bottom of the hill. Jasmine squinted. There was a person inside of the ball – a woman with flame-red hair. She appeared to be trapped. She was pounding her fists against the side of the ball. Another woman was standing outside of the ball. Jasmine gasped; the woman outside of the ball seemed to be changing shape. Her body seemed to waver – one minute, it was fat and round, the next it was thin and voluptuous. Her hair changed constantly, shifting from white to black and varying in length.

"Where on earth am I?" wondered Jasmine.

**SAFE BEHIND THESE WINDOWS AND THESE PARAPETS OF STONE**

"Oh my God!" Phoebus had warned her about the blood, but she was still shocked when she climbed up out of the floor and saw it. For a moment, Belle felt dizzy, as though she would faint.

"Easy now, easy." She felt Phoebus's hands on her arms and let him guide her out of the room without looking at it. Belle sat down on a step and buried her face in her hands, trying to push the image out of her mind. There had been so much blood! She suddenly thought of Phoebus's pregnant wife. What if it was her blood? The poor woman! She would certainly need a doctor – they had to find her at once!

"I'll be all right," said Belle, taking a deep breath. She lifted her head. Phoebus was sitting beside her, his hand resting comfortingly in the center of her back. His face was pale, the color of paper almost, and he seemed unable to look her in the eye. "We're going to find your wife," she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "We're going to find her, and everything will be all right."

Phoebus nodded. "Thank you." He paused for a moment. "You don't suppose there are more of those holes like the one we came through? She may have gone through one."

"It certainly seems possible," said Belle. "The hole we came through…it led from that room to the book in my library. There might be other holes leading to other places."

"But where did they come from?"

Belle shrugged. "I don't know."

**THE UNDERWORLD**

"So…this is where we go when we die?"

Gaston nodded. "Yes," he said. "It isn't very pleasant, but everyone comes here sooner or later."

LeFou nodded. "And the blue man…?"

"Hades," said Gaston, "he's the God of the Dead. He's in charge."

"Who were those other guys?"

"Claude and Jafar. They're not gods or anything. They're just dead, like you and me."

LeFou looked around. "This place is awfully empty," he said. "I mean, hundreds and hundreds of people have died…where are they?"

"They're in the river," said Gaston. "Usually when people die, they go into the river."

"So why aren't we in the river?"

Gaston shrugged. He did not know why he was not in the river. He had merely woken up on the riverbank. As far as he'd knew, he'd never been in the river. LeFou had fallen into the river immediately upon dying, but he didn't seem to remember this. "I'm not sure. Some people just don't go in the river." He supposed that he could ask Hades if he wanted to, but Hades was…busy.

"I don't remember dying," said LeFou.

"No one does." At least LeFou didn't remember dying, and he'd never know that Gaston had been the one to cause his death.

"You boys up for a poker game?"

Gaston and LeFou turned. Bill Sykes was sitting on a white wicker chair, shuffling a deck of playing cards. Gaston hadn't noticed him before, but the Underworld never seemed to retain its shape; it always seemed as if people were appearing or disappearing. LeFou was already approaching Sykes, so Gaston followed.

LeFou sat down across from Sykes. "I don't think I have any money," he said, patting his pockets. "I think I spent it."

Sykes shrugged. "Money isn't any good down here anyway." He began dealing the cards. "We can always play for fun."

One of Sykes's dogs picked its head up and sniffed the air curiously. The other dog looked at it, then raised its head. The first dog stood up, shook itself, and looked towards the hill. Sykes patted its head. "You're not helping the others, Gaston?" he asked.

Gaston shook his head and picked up his cards. "No," he said.

"Helping with what?" asked LeFou.

"They're trying to get revenge on the people who killed them," said Gaston. For a moment, it looked as if LeFou was about to ask Gaston why he didn't want revenge on the Beast who had done him in. Gaston shrugged. "It seems so petty," he said quickly, "it won't change anything."

Sykes nodded. "That's what I told them," he said. "Revenge won't bring any of us back." He glanced down at his dogs and scratched behind their ears. The dogs seemed to ignore him. They continued staring at the hill. "Besides, the bastard who killed me got what was coming to him. Died of pneumonia less than a year later." He nodded towards the other side of the river. Gaston followed Sykes's gaze. The river was wide, but he thought he saw a thin man moving around on the opposite shore. "It really doesn't matter much," said Sykes.


End file.
